


without any words (i can hear your name)

by decoying



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining, Semi-Public Sex, or is it... mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 01:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decoying/pseuds/decoying
Summary: Pressed close as they are, they cast only one shadow down the length of the alley. Estinien says it’s less conspicuous this way. They both know he's wholly unconcerned with impropriety—and that he’s lying.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	without any words (i can hear your name)

**Author's Note:**

> no spoilers, no worries. for heavensward or otherwise. hope these two figure it out eventually

Aymeric meant to tell him, once.

He meant to say: Ishgard has warm beds, you know. It has candle-lit dinners. Chambers with fireplaces.

Instead: it’s the detour, the wrong turn, the long way back.

It’s not as if they give each other much time to talk. Pressed close as they are, they cast only one shadow down the length of the alley. Estinien says it’s less conspicuous this way. They both know he’s wholly unconcerned with impropriety—and that he’s lying. Any soul walking by would have to be blind and deaf not to know what they’re doing.

All they lack in privacy they can only make up for in anonymity. The kind that comes with their bulky coats and furred hats. The kind that comes with a shadowed corner in a sleeping city, or a deep-buried shame.

All Aymeric wants to say is that they don't have to do it this way.

But when Estinien presses a thigh between his legs, anyone in the Brume might hear the groan he can’t swallow back. Estinien presses a finger to his mouth. But when he rocks his hips forward, Aymeric gasps so loud it echoes.

A smirk, wide and red as an open wound, is all he can see of Estinien’s face. 

“Eager, are we? Haven’t even touched you.”

He hasn’t, and the freezing air around them might as well be fog they way Aymeric’s already starting to pant.

“You like this, eh?”

 _Aye_. The chapped cheeks from sharp threads of wind. The stone digging frozen claws into his spine and bleeding heat through the punctures. The always-ache in his joints, the scramble, the relentless urgency.

What Aymeric _likes_ is—

Estinien growls. “Right there,” he says, and the teeth he bares could rake his lips raw. “This’ll warm you.”

 _It doesn’t have to be cold_ , Aymeric tries to say.

But every rational word turns white in the winter air the second there’s a hand on his cock.

“There you go.”

That same smirk splits his face in another wide gash. Aymeric doesn’t have to look up to feel the slice.

And despite all his pining, it’s been so _long_. He’s rocking into the tight ring of his hand like he’s starved. Against Aymeric’s hip, there’s Estinien grinding his own interest in small, frantic circles.

Static flashes in Aymeric’s mind. There’s a real date, a made-up bed, a proper kiss goodnight, then maybe—

“Wish I could fuck you like this.”

Aymeric moans so loud his throat scrapes raw. He comes in his smallclothes, hard and shamefully fast, Estinien’s hand working him through it until he’s shaking.

And Estinien doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t miss his rhythm. He pushes down his trousers and takes himself in hand. A string of swears carries the exhale, so profane they would get him extradited by the Holy See. And, snow and breath and come, everything in the alley shows white. 

Estinien braces a palm against the wall, chasing air that must burn on the way down.

Aymeric meant to kiss him when he came. He meant to push forward and tuck him back into his trousers after he wound down, to straighten his borrowed furs and tell him how he should keep them when he goes, how they look good on him, how it’d be a waste to return them now.

How maybe—he doesn’t have to go at all.

The mess in his smallclothes is cooling too quickly, the heat of the afterglow smothered by an endless Ishgardian winter.

They could have been—

“Leaving, then?”

Estinien already sorted himself out without a word. Aymeric’s gaze angles down so the moonlight doesn’t catch his eyes.

“...Aye. I’d best get back.”

Estinien’s lips roll in, thin as a new-healing scar. The only trace left of what they’ve just done is in his cheeks, their color high. 

But then, it could just be the cold.

Aymeric wants to say that they can go together. But that would be a lie.

So instead, Aymeric says, “Until next time, then?”

And Estinien answers, “...Yeah. Next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted it all, but you wanted to breathe  
> i can never understand why you wanted to bleed for us  
> all i've ever known is another world where i'm not alone  
> will my heart just allow you to breathe?  
> i wish you were here, that's [all](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-U2MDqYtP64)
> 
> spoiler alert: it IS mutual pining :(


End file.
